


Various Accounts of Corvo Attano

by WarlordFelwinter



Series: Dishonored / Rat Plague Era [2]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Low Chaos Corvo, M/M, Outsider Perspective, Selectively Mute Corvo, just a touch of corvosider not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlordFelwinter/pseuds/WarlordFelwinter
Summary: Apparently writing Corvo from other people's perspectives is my new thing. Here's more





	Various Accounts of Corvo Attano

**Author's Note:**

> Low Chaos, Clean Hands Corvo is my canon

To Samuel, Corvo was an oddity.

He never knew Corvo as the Royal Protector, but he was the first to see him after he had escaped from prison. That man, Samuel thought he understood. As much as he could, anyway. A man in a bad place. Sick and wounded and scarred. The night Samuel brought him to the pub, he was quiet. He met the essentials and then went to sleep until the next evening, without even eating.

And then the strangeness started and Samuel stopped being able to figure him out. In one day he regained the weight he'd lost in prison, healed all of the scars from his torture, even his _clothes_ were cleaned by the time he emerged from his sleep. A new tattoo on the back of his hand explained the change.

Corvo said he didn't ask for it, Samuel wasn't sure. He didn't know how all that occult nonsense worked. He worried, though. Not because he followed the Abbey's teachings, but because Corvo had lost so much. Everything that had happened to him, everything that had been taken from him. They were the perfect conditions to create a monster. The only thing that might have stopped a normal man from flooding the streets with blood was ability. Even a famous swordsman could only go up against so many guard before he was overwhelmed. But with the Outsider in his corner, there was nothing that could stand in Corvo's way.

Samuel resigned himself to it. It wasn't his place to question. Corvo owed him nothing. If he wanted to burn the empire down to ashes, there was nothing Samuel could say that would stop him.

And yet…

Night after night. Trip after trip. Corvo surprised him. He branded the High Overseer as a heretic. He made a deal with Slackjaw to remove the Pendleton brothers. The rumors Samuel began to hear about him were like those about a ghost. People would just disappear, or things would happen. No one ever saw him—except the guests at Lady Boyle's party—and no one ever fell to his blade. The bodies he left in his wake would wake up a few hours later, wondering what had snuck up behind them.

With Emily at the pub, he changed even more. He was at her side as much as possible, guarding her of course, but also just keeping her company. He was mute around the rest of them, but Samuel saw him talking to Emily quietly a few times. He was gentle around her, less like a bodyguard and more like a father. And now that he'd seen the little girl up close—seen her dark thick hair and dark eyes, so much like Corvo's—he suspected Corvo cared about her as more than just his charge.

Corvo was bizarre, but he was a good man, and it was an easy decision for Samuel to try and save him.

 

* * *

 

 

To Havelock, Corvo was a weapon.

He was a sharpened sword, or a well oiled pistol. When Samuel first brought him in, Havelock had been concerned about their chances of success. Six months in Colridge hadn't been kind to the Lord Protector.

He wasn't blind, or stupid. The change Corvo went under in a night was impossible, and the man made no effort to hide the Mark he had acquired. Havelock didn't really care one way or the other about the power Corvo had gained. It helped him do his job, so in that respect, it was good. Pendleton was uneasy about it. As far as Havelock knew, Martin never saw it until the end. Corvo was at least smart enough to hide a Mark of the Outsider around an Overseer.

The assassin had an unexpected conscience, which threw a bit of a wrench into his plans, especially near the end. Corvo was always restrained and quiet, taking his time to move silently through the missions they sent him on. He didn't kill a single one of the marks they set him, always finding innovative other ways to take them out of power.

The way he held himself, and the way he handled a weapon, made Havelock sure that he could easily take a life if he needed to, but he wouldn't, if he had a choice.

The way he hovered over Emily when they got her back proved to be a frustration as well. He loved the girl dearly, and Havelock knew he would never let them near her after this was all over. He felt a tiny twinge of guilt when he handed Corvo the poisoned drink, but it was easy to push it away. Trevor and Marvin seemed more upset after it was all done—even after Marvin saw the Mark on his hand—but Havelock saw it as a necessary step.

Corvo was a weapon, and he had served his purpose.

 

* * *

 

 

To Daud, Corvo was an unknown.

He had taken his time to watch him before he had moved in on Jessamine. The Lord Regent had assured him Corvo would be out of the way when he struck, but he didn't like to take chances. As it happened, Corvo returned from his trip early, so it was good he had prepared.

He knew Corvo had grown up in Karnaca. He had won the Duke's swordsmanship tournament and become Jessamine's bodyguard when he was quite young. He was an exceptionally skilled swordsman and marksman. But he didn't have the edge Daud and the Whalers did. So he was easy to get out of the way.

After he escaped prison, Daud kept an eye on him. He stationed Whalers around Dunwall, watching Corvo's movements. He was shocked, at first, when he heard the Whalers accounts of Corvo using the Outsider's magic. He didn't want to believe it. But when Corvo started taking the scouts out—never killing them, just blinking up behind them and knocking them unconscious—he knew it must be true. He visited shrines and prayed, trying to get the Outsider to tell him _why_ he had chosen Corvo. But the god ignored him, seeming to have found a new toy.

It was infuriating, watching Corvo use the Outsider's tricks to work his way through the Regent's lieutenants, up to the Regent himself. All without spilling any blood. The city grew no worse for his efforts. The mutterings he heard about the ghost of Dunwall were all… hopeful. Not afraid, like they should be, of a silent assassin.

Not that he could be called an assassin, given he never killed anyone.

Daud felt it when Corvo came for him. The Whaler told him Corvo had escaped and Daud knew the Lord Protector was listening. He kept his wits about him, Mark burning, waiting for Corvo to strike. He felt it when time stopped. He wasn't affected, but the Whaler froze in place, the gentle lapping of the flooded street went silent.

Daud felt a hush of Void, but when he turned, there was no one there. His eyes flicked to his desk and saw his key was missing. He checked his belt and found his extra ammo and money gone as well. The doors to the sewers were left open, several Whalers left unconscious in the halls, and the Lord Protector gone without a trace.

For the first time since he had gained the Outsider's Mark, Daud felt a beat of fear.

 

* * *

 

 

To the Outsider, Corvo was a fascination.

Over four thousand years, he had come to know the nature of man. Everyone fought for power and wealth and those who gained it became corrupted. Again and again. It was dull.

He observed Corvo for a long time before marking him. He first gained the Outsider's attention in Serkonos, fighting in back alleys with sticks and broken bottles. He supposed something about Corvo reminded him of himself as a boy, living in the streets of some nameless town in Tyvia.

Instead of being ritually murdered, however, Corvo won a contest and got a prestigious job and fell in love with an Empress. For a while, the Outsider lost interest. It was another cliché story that he had seen play out time and time again.

When Corvo escaped prison and was tasked with eliminating the most powerful people in the Empire, the Outsider refound his interest. Corvo had always been quiet and restrained and he wondered what he would do given such power.

There was amusement, as well, because he knew Corvo would eventually confront another of his Marked—Daud. He thought that meeting would be quite entertaining.

He fully expected Corvo to be another disappointment that went mad with power and painted the streets red. He expected him to grow old and bitter like Daud and blame the Outsider for his own sadistic choices.

Instead, he found himself surprised. And _that_ was a rare feeling, indeed.

Everything Corvo did, he became more and more interesting. He held back where others would have struck, he was silent where others would have shouted in rage. And yet, where everyone else saw a mask of quiet reserve, the Outsider was afforded another view. He saw the awe and curiosity on Corvo's face when he first stepped into the Void. The fierce concentration in his eyes as he carefully aimed his blinks, and puzzled over the glimpses into the future the Outsider provided him. His caution with his powers didn't last long, though. The Outsider watched him dart from roof to roof with reckless abandon, flinging himself over the edge or slamming face first into a chimney as he attempted to get the hang of it. But there was no frustration. The Outsider even heard a few breathless laughs hidden behind his mask.

The Outsider was unaware, at first, how much he was helping. He watched Corvo exclusively, ignoring the way Daud demanded to talk to him. Watching turned to interfering. He left strategic stashes of elixir or ammo. He nudged Corvo's gaze to unaware enemies, or safer pathways. A few times he even shifted Corvo's blink trajectories to let him land safely.

When Corvo pushed himself too far, and coughed up slick luminescence at the foot of his shrine, he knelt and put a hand to his jaw. He was incorporeal, in this world, so he could never really _touch_ Corvo, but all the same, it was the first time in a very long time that he had attempted. He healed the scars the Void left inside him and warned him against doing it again.

And, of course, Corvo didn't listen.

For a man that was mute, he was astonishingly flippant.

Even the way he _looked_ at the Outsider was fascinating. He never regarded him with fear, or hatred, or greed. When they first spoke, his gaze was guarded. Over time, when he stopped for a rest at shrines and took his mask off, his gaze became more open. Curious, most often. He watched the way the Outsider's boots hovered a few inches above the floor; followed the movements of his hands and the wisps of smoke that wreathed around him.

It was the night of Lady Boyle's party that Corvo first spoke to him. The Outsider knew he was not entirely mute. He had observed him talking to Jessamine and Emily, but he remained silent around others. More so after Jessamine had been killed.

The Outsider materialized above the shrine when Corvo picked up the rune and took his mask off. There was a hint of oil around his lips that he licked away. The Weepers in the room were breathing, still. The man wouldn't even kill a Weeper. Baffling.

"Going to a party, Corvo?"  he asked, rhetorically.

"Jealous?" Corvo replied, unexpectedly.

The Outsider stared at him, the rest of his speech completely forgotten. No one had ever _interrupted_ him before, and certainly not to _tease_. Corvo smiled, eyebrows raised, looking decidedly smug.

"Always so composed," Corvo said softly. "Didn't know you could look like a startled rabbit."

The Outsider blinked, taken aback. He stepped down from the shrine and walked around Corvo. He couldn't get far from the shrine without disappearing.

"Most others would be quaking in their boots right now," he hissed. "Afraid I'd rip their tongue out for speaking to me like that."

Corvo continued to smile, unimpressed. "Not much would change if you took my tongue," he pointed out.

"Fair enough. Shall I take something else? Your heart, perhaps?"

He meant it as a threat, jabbing the assassin in the chest as he spoke, baring his teeth. Instead, Corvo's eyes darted away and his pulse quickened, but not with fear.

"Already done that," he replied and walked over to the window, putting his mask on. The Outsider stared at him, startled for the third time in one night. He wouldn't be the first. Certainly not the first. All manner of witches, marked and not, had claimed to love him. But theirs was a hungry, crazed worship and greed. It bored him. Corvo was interesting. There was no worship in their interactions. He treated the Outsider more like a friend than a god. He might be offended if it weren't so _different_. Refreshing.

"Enjoy the party," he murmured and vanished as Corvo climbed through the window.

Ever a surprise.

 

* * *

 

 

And to Emily, Corvo was the world.

Even when her mother was alive, Corvo was there, sneaking her out of boring lessons to teach her how to hold a sword, or how to slip silently through the shadows in the kitchen to steal pastries that they shared on the rooftop.

When her mother was killed in front of her, Corvo was the only thing she had left. They told her he was dead, but she knew better. Corvo couldn't die, she thought. He was so strong and clever. He would escape wherever he was and he would come save her from this strange place.

She used the skills Corvo had taught her to try and escape from the Golden Cat. She nearly succeeded, and each time ended up with more security. She didn't give up. She made new and better plans. If Corvo couldn't come find her, she would escape and find him.

When the door opened and she saw the mask, she was afraid, at first. But then he took it off and knelt, holding his arms out to her, picking her up in a tight hug. He looked a bit more tired, a bit more stressed than usual, but his eyes were still kind, and he still smiled at her the way she remembered.

The few days she spent at the Hound Pits, she saw less of Corvo than she would have liked. He was away often, doing work for the Loyalists. She knew it was important. He was dealing with the people who had killed her mother, and she was happy about that, but she wished they could be together more.

When Corvo was there, he never left her side. They walked around the abandoned street, where Corvo would randomly toss her a stick and they would have a mock sword fight. Or they would climb to the top of the tower and watch the sun set and talk. Corvo would tell her about Serkonos or whales or what it was like being on a ship, whatever she wanted to know about.

And then Corvo was gone. Taken away from her. Havelock told her Corvo had abandoned her. She didn't believe him for an instant. She fought and kicked and bit and nearly escaped. They locked her in a room at the lighthouse and she screamed and beat on the door and tried to break the windows. She wouldn't give up. She couldn't. She was Empress.

And she knew Corvo would come find her. She knew he would escape from wherever they had put him, survive whatever they had tried to do to him. Because he was everything. And she knew he would always be there to protect her.

**Author's Note:**

> the outsider got the longest passage by far but listen... i love him


End file.
